


Alter Ego

by butterstotchcandy



Category: South Park
Genre: Action, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Amnesia, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Childhood Friends, College AU, Comedy, Cute, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Superheroes, Superpowers, Tension, To Read, University, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterstotchcandy/pseuds/butterstotchcandy
Summary: After a supervillain causes all of South Park's vigilantes to lose their memories and knowledge of their powers, their civilian alter egos wake up to their first year of university, completely unaware of their crime fighting pasts and of a traitorous mastermind in their midst.When eighteen year old Kyle Broflovski discovers his old notebook containing the identities of all the former South Park superheroes, it's up to him to recover everyone's memories, reforge old alliances, and take down the mastermind behind it all.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens, Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Eric Cartman/Taco Bell, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Scott Malkinson/Insulin, Token Black/Nichole Daniels
Comments: 37
Kudos: 185





	1. Kyle Kills Someone

Hurling his kite upwards into a soaring arc, Kyle watched it spiral downwards and release a minuscule pulse of light, before crashing to the ground. Again. Disappointment and frustration welled up inside of him as he jogged over to pick up the kite. He had been practicing in the abandoned parking lot every single night for two months, and had barely any progress to show for it. 

Squinting down at the pavement, Kyle compared the crater his kite had made on the concrete in his latest attempt to the impacts of previous failures. The dent was just as unimpressive as the others, caving in the cement by a few centimeters. He slumped down on the ground in defeat, and switched on his phone to illuminate the cover of his notebook. “Kyle’s Comprehensive Guide to Superheroes”, the faded title read. He thumbed through the pages until he found the section he was searching for.

“Human Kite” was Kyle’s superpowered alter ego before he lost his memory, and his notes detailed his backstory, as well as every single move he’d invented. Unfortunately the diagrams were vague and relying on muscle memory could only take him so far, as Kyle had learned. He sighed. It wasn’t easy being an amnesiac superhero, and it was even worse knowing that the memory loss basically crippled him against future disasters or villain encounters. 

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he tilted the phone screen towards him. 2:13 A.M.

The sky was pitch black, and the soft chirping of crickets permeated the otherwise silent atmosphere. Maybe he should just give up for tonight and head back to the dorms. Kyle was suddenly submerged in darkness as his phone battery died. Great. Now he had no choice but to go back. Call it divine intervention.

With no other viable source of light or communication, Kyle relied on his night vision and the tiny light pulses his kite produced to navigate his way out of the lot and back on campus. As he blindly picked his way along the dirt path, he became acutely aware of a faint rustling in the trees nearby. He stilled, listening carefully for the noise. His ears were met with nothing but silence and the chirping of crickets. Chalking it up to squirrel activity, Kyle ignored it and continued stumbling his way back to campus.

Gradually, he began to get the gut wrenching feeling that he wasn’t alone. That something, no, someone, was following him. Invisible eyes bore into his back, and footsteps that didn’t quite coincide with his own echoed behind him. 

Crap. The flashes of light from his kite must have somehow attracted the attention of some creepy stranger. Desperately hoping that it wasn’t a crazy hermit who lived in the woods and murdered unsuspecting college kids, Kyle picked up his pace, now relying purely on his memory and night vision to find his way back. The tactic seemed to work, and his muscles relaxed slightly as the footsteps slowly faded behind him. Then they were back, the pace quicker and unsteadier than before. A sudden loud noise behind him made Kyle freeze in his tracks. He tried not to panic as his fight or flight instinct kicked in. He had one of two options: stay and face what could possibly be a psychotic hermit, or make a run for it and maybe survive. Kyle knew which one sounded better to him.

But before he could turn around and start sprinting, a shadowy figure broke away from the tree line and stumbled towards him. In a moment of panic, Kyle launched his kite upwards, pure adrenaline coursing through his veins as he flung it into a soaring arc. He watched in astonishment as it hurtled back down, generating a forcefield that threw the figure backwards in a burst of white light. 

The shock from the impact had Kyle’s ears ringing and heart beating erratically. As his eyes adjusted to the fading light, a sense of dread filled his chest as he recognized the figure on the ground. Stan Marsh, his former best friend and ex-hero who had been missing for months, stared back at him with a look of wide eyed bewilderment and terror, before promptly passing out.

Kyle paled. He really fucked up this time.


	2. The Anime Backstory Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt this program to bring you some backstory!

It all started three months ago. While most people were enjoying the beginning of summer break, a freak accident had devastated Kyle’s hometown, inflicting all the residents with amnesia. He hadn't been spared. The last memory that Kyle could conjure up in his mind was when he was discovered by the first responders. He recalled the wailing sirens in the distance, the blurred flashes of red and blue, the searing pain that tore through his body. Kyle didn’t remember much after that, as he allowed unconsciousness to wash over him. 

His first few days in the hospital were spent slipping in and out of consciousness. He couldn’t walk or talk properly, and he’d wake up with little to no memory of the previous day. Faceless nurses checked in periodically to replace his IV drip and deliver trays of bland hospital meals. Once Kyle was able to retain information again and stay awake for longer periods, he was informed of his diagnoses. _Retroactive amnesia._

-

“It’s an extremely rare branch of amnesia,” Dr Lopez had explained to him. “A subset of retrograde amnesia. In retrograde, any familiar object or place can trigger the recollection of memories, whereas in retroactive, only certain objects can be used to activate memories, and these memories may only be limited to a certain date in the past.”

The example she used to illustrate this concept was with two colorblind people and a variety of Enchroma glasses. One colorblind person has the possibility of viewing the entire spectrum of colors through any one of the glasses, while the other is only able to see color through a specific pair of glasses, and even then, they are only limited to seeing a specific color. 

“So it’s retrograde amnesia but pickier?” Kyle had asked.

Dr. Lopez chuckled. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

-

"It was the strangest case the police had ever encountered," a nurse mentioned during a daily check up. The entire town was found in a near catatonic state when local farmers arrived in the morning to deliver their daily produce. Unconscious citizens littered the streets and buildings, as if they had just suddenly collapsed in the middle of their daily routines. The farmers described it as a town wide narcoleptic episode, which would have almost been comical, were it not for the mild burns that pockmarked their bodies. They also reported a strong odor of burning plastic that permeated the air.

By the time first responders arrived on scene, most citizens were awake and they were all completely disoriented. No one knew where they were, what had happened or who anyone else was. Strangely enough, all patients were diagnosed with retroactive amnesia, though none had suffered any blunt damage to the head. Kyle, however, wasn’t as lucky. He was found unconscious with substantial physical damage, suffering from blunt trauma and severe lacerations to the back. 

Due to the overwhelming amount of patients that needed medical attention, including the Hell’s Pass Hospital staff, Kyle had been transferred to the North Park Sanitarium for treatment. Most residents had been transported to medical facilities in Fairplay or Boulder for CT scans and treatment for first degree burns.

Coincidentally, South Park’s power grid had failed that day, blowing fuses all across town. A string of house fires broke out as a result, and both the infrastructure and anything remotely flammable inside the buildings were destroyed. With all the evidence destroyed and no real leads, the police called it a day. It was a small town anyway, with a population of less than a thousand. They chalked it up to a freak lightning storm that caused the town to lose power, and the amnesia as a consequence of the noxious gases released from the burnt power lines. It would also explain the unnaturally high electromagnetic radiation detected in broken electronic devices around town. But to Kyle, this conclusion was too neat, an excuse for the police to sweep this case under the rug. Something didn't add up. The two events were way too close together and it was far too convenient that the 'random house fires' destroyed every last shred of evidence and remnant of their past. Everyone was colorblind now and the only set of Enchroma glasses that would help was gone.

The nurse shook her head sympathetically. "A complete freak accident, and an unfortunate coincidence."

Kyle thought otherwise.

-

Aside from the hospital staff's occasional check ins, Kyle was left alone for most of the day. It was nice, at first, being given the space and quiet to recover peacefully. But once he was eased off the anaesthetics and pain medication, Kyle found himself becoming more and more restless. There was literally nothing to do except get lost in his own headspace. There was a laptop lending program in the clinic, though a shortage on supplies and a constant influx of patients meant that Kyle was only able to use the computer once.

He spent his first time slot with the laptop attempting to find out more about the incident, though it was a lot harder than anticipated. He had switched on the laptop with the utmost confidence that there would be at least some form of media coverage about the town, but a quick Google search for ‘South Park amnesia’ proved otherwise. 

Kyle stared at the screen in disbelief. No results found. How was it possible that the event of an entire town blacking out didn’t catch the attention of a single media outlet? Trying different word combinations and synonyms produced the same result.

Searching for just ‘South Park’ didn’t help much either. The Internet was a vast library of information, where typing in a single letter produced millions of results, but there was a single page worth of articles on an entire town. He was pretty sure keyboard smashing would yield more results than the measly amount of information on South Park. Efforts to find old family social media accounts proved fruitless, considering the only thing he knew about them was their last name. South Park’s online obscurity was both frustrating and fascinating to Kyle. He knew there had to be some kind of explanation for this phenomenon, but with the lack of leads, there was nothing he could do.

Most of Kyle's time was spent trying to recall old memories, and scribbling down notes on anything he could remember about his family or friends. Fragmented memories floated in his head. It was almost normal, save for the lack of human interaction.

_Kyle remembered watching Terrence and Philip reruns with a bowl of Fruit Loops on Saturday mornings. Someone squirmed on the couch beside him, pestering him to switch to Dora the Explorer or Yo Gabba Gabba._

_He remembered reading books on philosophy and the concept of reality under his covers late at night, a lone flashlight beam spilling over the pages. He braced himself for the strangely familiar shrill earful he’d get for staying up late, but it never came._

_He remembered typing up a biology report about enzymes as he sipped on cold coffee from a handmade mug. The mug had been an old present from a familiar stranger, and Kyle remembered how excited they’d been to give it to him._

It was violating and disconcerting, as if his memories had been tampered with by an outsider. Like a reel of film where the frames containing any other human had been carefully spliced out. "A side effect of retroactive amnesia," Dr. Lopez explained. "Unfortunately, you’ve become ‘colorblind’ to people from your past." 

Suddenly, the world seemed to grow a thousand times lonelier in that tiny hospital room.


	3. You’ve Got Mail!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tooth fairy with a weird sense of humor, some yoga...oh, and Kyle gets his memories back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a new update! To long time readers, I suggest checking this chapter out as I’ve made quite a few edits since the old version! Thank you for sticking around :)

And then the journal arrived.

Kyle rolled over in his hospital bed one morning and nearly stabbed himself in the eye. _An awesome way to start the morning._ He cursed under his breath and sat up, twisting around to find what had nearly left him half blind.

The guilty party, a battered notebook with deceptively worn corners, peeked out from under his pillow. What the hell?

It was like the gift of some fucked up tooth fairy who shoved old, pointy notebooks under people’s pillows instead of money.

Kyle tentatively picked it up, examining the faded green cover with a title neatly printed across it in Sharpie. “Kyle’s Comprehensive Guide to Superheroes”. His heart leapt in his chest upon recognizing his own handwriting. Yesterday he had hit a dead end with leads and now he was literally holding a goldmine of information from his childhood. 

A photo of his younger self, dressed in a grey hood and blue tunic with a giant kite strapped to his back, greeted him upon opening the book. Judging from the lack of dark circles around his eyes and the baby fat on his cheeks, Kyle assumed it was taken when he was fourteen or fifteen.

The words "Human Kite" were printed above the picture, and a handwritten description below read: “Human Kite is an Elementalist hero who fights crime with the help of his trusty kite and his best friend Toolshed.”

Elementalist hero? Fights crime? This had to be some kind of elaborate prank. Despite his misgivings about the book, something akin to recognition flared in his chest, compelling him to continue reading.

He didn't have time to even turn the page when Dr. Lopez strode in. Instinctively, Kyle shoved the book under his blanket as she sat down beside him to check his vitals.

"Hey, um, did I get any visitors last night?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Dr. Lopez gave him a sharp look. "No, I don't recall seeing anyone enter your room. Why?"

Something in his gut told him that the notebook wasn't something to be mentioned to her, or anyone for that matter. Kyle shook his head quickly. "N-nothing. I just had a dream that my family came to visit me, that's all."

"Oh," Dr. Lopez softened, and she gave him a comforting smile. "Of course. Don’t worry, I'm sure they'll visit soon, Kyle."

-

Kyle’s fingers were itching to leaf through the book as he made small talk with the nurse who had come to deliver lunch.

Even if it turned out to be useless and fictitious, it was still a precious piece of his past, and the fact that a stranger had gone through extra measures to deliver it to him secretly must mean that this notebook had to hold some degree of importance. It was also quite possibly his only chance to recover a part of an identity he didn’t know he lost. As soon as the nurse stepped out of his room, Kyle fished it out from under the sheets.

A strengths and weaknesses table listed below stated that Human Kite was weak to close ranged combat, but a great medic and ranger. The rest of the page was composed of detailed diagrams of himself demonstrating various moves with the kite. Each diagram came with a short description of the move, and what effect it had. Jeez, he put a lot of effort into this. Props to his younger self. 

He figured that he might as well attempt some of the moves later. It’s not like he had anything better to do in this cramped hospital room, and he owed it to his past self to at least try. He remembered how he used to be obsessed with anything superhero related. There was a point refused to leave the house without his Thor hammer for an entire year. He smiled fondly as he turned the page.

His breath caught in his throat.

He recognized the boy in the next photo. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a lopsided grin with a dimple on the left cheek. 

_Stan._

A dam burst in his mind, flooding his subconscious with thousands of memories.

Stan was his best friend. They had grown up together, gone on adventures together, laughed and cried together. The Captain America to his Thor. He remembered their Friday night sleepovers, where they would stay up late gaming until their vision blurred.

Kyle would always wake up to find himself slumped in the crook of Stan’s neck, or find Stan draped across his stomach, snoring lightly. 

He frantically scanned the rest of the page, hoping to find another memory trigger. Hero name: Toolshed. Loyal, kind hearted, a great ally to have. Ability to control all power tools.

Kyle gaped at the page in disbelief. That was it? That’s all he had left of the boy who had been his best friend for eighteen years? There had to be more. He knew there had to be more, but the page provided nothing more than statistics. 

Mysterion, or Kenny McCormick, appeared on the following page. The photo depicted a tall figure in a dark cloak, his hood and mask obscuring most of his face, but it was undeniably Kenny. Kyle was hit by another surge of bittersweet emotions as memories of his friend resurfaced. 

Kenny had a barely visible scar across the bridge of his nose after getting hit in the face with a hockey puck. 

His half lidded amber eyes had once brimmed with tears as he clutched the shoebox that held his pet possum after it was accidentally run over by his dad’s truck. 

He had used those gloved hands to pull Kyle into the tightest huh after he got him a signed poster of Danica Patrick for his twelfth birthday. 

Mysterion was characterized as being serious and gruff, with a strong sense of justice. Kyle snorted. He couldn’t imagine Kenny, the guy who cut out the boobs from his dad’s Playboys, as this cold, stoic character. Under the abilities section, a word had been scribbled out and tailed with three question marks in red marker. Kyle had no idea what that meant, nor was he able to make out anything except that the word started with the letter I.

Flipping through the rest of the book, Kyle came across faces both familiar and unfamiliar. Mosquito, Super Craig, The Coon. The pang of sadness swelled in his chest as he mourned the fact that he’d most likely never see them again. Well, he wouldn’t mind if he never saw Cartman again.

Kyle dutifully made notes of all their civilian names, hoping to find some kind of social media presence from any of them. It wasn’t until he turned to the last page when things took an even stranger turn.

A scrap of paper with two words haphazardly scrawled across it fluttered onto his lap. 

“FIND US.”

His blood ran cold. That definitely wasn’t his handwriting. The letters were jagged and the ‘S’ trailed off the page, as if the writer had been in a hurry. This must have been left by the mysterious sender, he reasoned. But what did the message mean exactly?

The ‘US’ from the note was most likely referring to the people listed in his notebook. That made sense. It seemed obvious that the key to uncovering the truth about the incident was to find the other victims. But that was easier said than done. 

Kyle had to bribe the next patient in line for the computer with the promise of an entire week’s worth of chocolate pudding cups, an admirable sacrifice in his pursuit of truth.

Turns out that was all for nothing. When he plugged their names into the communal computer, not a single relevant result appeared. No social media, no mentions in news reports, not even an irate Yelp review. It was like any trace of their online presence had been erased from the annals of the Internet itself, and it confirmed his suspicions. A huge cover up was happening right under his nose and he was powerless to do anything.

As he paged through the book for the hundredth time, searching for something he might have missed, another thought popped into his mind. If the contents of the notebook were true, then that meant Kyle possessed some kind of superhuman ability. He tried to stay logical about it, reasoning that the physics behind it was impossible, but a part of him was excited by the prospect. He had to admit, it would be pretty fucking cool if he did turn out to have powers.

When it became obvious that there wasn’t any extra leads or messages hidden in the pages, Kyle found his mind drifting back to the concept of actually having powers. 

He glanced around his tiny hospital room. If he were to entertain the idea, now would probably be the best time to try. No one was around to watch him make a fool of himself, and if he did somehow injure himself, the nurse was only a button’s press away.

His wounds had mostly healed and he no longer required an IV drip attached to his arm at all times, but getting up and moving around for extended periods of time did cause the pain to flare up.

Kyle propped the book up on the bedside table, copying the diagrams as best he could. He felt stupid with one arm awkwardly outstretched, pretending to throw a kite upwards. His movements were stiff and clumsy at first, and his chest hurt when he overextended his arms. But something in his gut told he was on the right track, so he kept trying.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and imagined himself in that costume again, his kite a light and comforting weight on his arm. He pretended that his torso wasn’t crisscrossed with healing scars, and that he wasn’t in a cramped hospital room, but an open field instead. A grassy, green hill and a day so bright he could almost feel the warm rays of the sun dappling his skin. 

He focused on picturing the pose in his mind, ignoring the mild ache spreading through his body. Slowly, his feet slid into a wider stance and his arm rotated upwards, pitching the imaginary kite into the sky. His eyes snapped open. 

That was it! He wanted to laugh with giddiness and excitement, but the walls weren’t soundproof and he didn’t want the elderly lady in 4B to think he was pulling a Joker. The Joaquin Phoenix version.

He squeezed his eyes shut again and repeated the motion, gaining confidence with each try. It wasn’t long before he found a rhythm to the action. Muscle memory took over as he easily slid from one position into the next, twirling and imaginary kite overhead. 

His skepticism melted away with every subsequent sweep of the leg and glide of the arm. The ease and familiarity that came with each movement wasn’t something that came without arduous practice. He still couldn’t be certain that he used to be a superhero until he could recover his kite, but the fact that he was trained in combat was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I know Kyle and Stan haven’t even met yet, but I needed to throw in just a little bit of fluff for you guys :D


	4. A Boy and his Kite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle is reunited with something. Yes, something not someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a mini chapter! I’m editing whenever possible and I’m so excited for the next few chapters. New content coming soon :D

“UNDER THE BED.”

Kyle woke up to a nanosecond of pain as he cut his finger on the note under his pillow. What was with that guy and shoving weirdly dangerous sheets of paper under the bed?

Cautiously, Kyle crouched and squinted at the space under the bed. He knew better than to blindly grope for whatever was down there. Given the track record of the sender, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was another note hidden under the bed that would injure him in one way or the other. 

Something was stuck to the underside of the bed. Gingerly, he fished it out, and then it happened. Intense heat shot through his veins, and his head was filled with numbingly cold clarity, as if he had been dunked in freezing water. 

Suddenly lightheaded, Kyle dropped to the ground, clutching his kite as the sudden rush of sensations overwhelmed him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe until it subsided.

As the heat and cold ebbed away, Kyle was left with a sense of calm. He had connected with the kite, _his kite_ , and with it came knowledge of his abilities. 

It was inexplicable, but he knew without a doubt that he had powers now. Like if he flipped the kite into the air, he could generate a force field. Like if he placed his palm over an injury, he would be able to heal it.

And then Kyle remembered his paper cut. He closed his eyes and placed two fingers over it, allowing golden warmth to spread through his fingertips and flow into the cut. 

He half expected the cut to still be there when he opened his eyes, but was greeted with the sight of unbroken skin. His eyes widened and a sudden dizziness overcame him. _Holy shit. Holy shit, this was actually happening to him._ Kyle almost laughed at the insane events that had happened in the span of an hour. When he woke up this morning he was just Kyle Broflovski, regular teen boy. And now he was Kyle Broflovski, regular teen boy who had actual fucking powers and could literally _heal things_ with his hands.

The weight of everything suddenly crashed down on him and he flopped onto the bed. Everything the journal said was true. Superheroes existed and it just so happened that Kyle was one. The message from the notebook held a new meaning to it now. He needed to find the rest of them, and fast. Something big was happening and they needed to be there as the first line of defence.

The dizziness had worsened, and Kyle wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from using his powers or the pressure of his mission. _Whatever happens, he thought. I’m not gonna buckle. Not when everyone’s counting on me._


	5. The Adventures of Kiteboy and Drunk Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now back to our regularly scheduled program!

This was just Kyle’s luck. Out of all the ways he could’ve pictured himself tonight, crouched over Stan’s unconscious body in the woods at 2 A.M. was not one of them. 

There was no good way of explaining this to the cops. _You see officers, I’m a recovering amnesiac superhero who accidentally used his giant kite to kill someone._

Trying not to panic, Kyle checked for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when he felt Stan’s heart beating rhythmically. 

What next? Check for breathing? Yeah, that sounded logical. With all the grace of someone who didn’t know what he was doing, he kneeled over Stan’s face and listening for the sound of breathing. The strong scent of peppermint and alcohol hit Kyle as he leaned in close, nose wrinkling involuntarily. Peppermint Schnapps. A ghost of a memory flitted through his mind, too fleeting for him to grasp. 

Another soft exhale of sweet liquor brought him back into his surroundings. He was met with a pair of unfocused blue eyes, blinking up at him in confusion. “What’re you doing?”

Kyle became acutely aware of how close their faces were and jolted backwards, blushing furiously. “I wasn’t-this isn’t...it’s not what it looks like! I was just checking for breathing, I swear!”

Stan stared at him for a long, tense moment before his expression melted into a painfully familiar grin, a gesture so simple Kyle didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. “Suuure dude, whatever you say,” he laughed, speech punctuated with a hiccup. 

Kyle sighed. “Alright, listen. It’s 2 A.M. and you’re completely shitfaced in the middle of the woods. If we don’t get back to campus soon, we’re going to be in really big trouble. So I’m going to need you to get up and I’ll help you back to campus, okay?”

When he received no reply, he looked up to see Stan staring at him with wide, puppy dog eyes. “What’s your name?”

Kyle’s throat went dry. “What?”

The underlying implication in that innocent question hit him hard. 

Stan didn’t remember him. 

Of course he wouldn’t remember. It was stupid of him to think that he would. Stan was afflicted with amnesia too, and he didn’t have a special notebook to help him recover faster. Not to mention, he was still completely drunk, stuck in a forgetful and overly cheerful daze. A part of Kyle hoped that he would have recognized him, even if it was in this delirious state.

“Hey, are you okay?” Stan’s worried voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

His eyes suddenly appeared focused, a familiar look of concern crossing his face, and for a brief moment, Kyle was sitting next to his best friend again. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he nodded. “Um, yeah. Sorry. It’s Kyle.” 

Satisfied with the answer, Stan’s sobriety vanished, replaced by another dopey smile. “Kyyyyleee,” he repeated, a tinge of awe in his voice, stretching out the name like he was one of those aliens from Toy Story.

Kyle cracked a tiny smile at that. He had forgotten how fascinated Stan was by everything when he was drunk. He stood up, dusting the dirt off the seat of his pants, and offered a hand to Stan. 

“Are you okay to walk on your own?” Kyle asked, and Stan nodded jerkily in response. “Does _this_ answer your question?” he smirked, before sprinting the wrong way and unceremoniously tripping into a bush. 

Stifling his laughter, Kyle jogged over and helped him up, slinging an arm around his drunken companion’s shoulder. “Yeah, actually it does.”

With no further protests from Stan, they clumsily made their way out of the woods. To Kyle’s dismay, security guards were patrolling the borders of the college, their flashlight beams scouring every inch of the pavement. “Shit!” he swore under his breath. They were implementing that rule _now_? A recent string of muggings had been occurring around campus, making the school increase security and set mandatory curfews. And of course, the new night guards just had to be brought in the same night Kyle almost blew up a very drunk college boy in the woods.

“Want some help?”

Kyle’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he noticed the dark silhouette perched on an overhead branch. “What the fuck! What the hell are you doing up there?”

The stranger cackled with laughter. “Do you always swear this much?”

“No, just when deranged Batman wannabes like you hide in trees and scare the living crap out of people.” Kyle shot back. 

“Batman wishes,” the silhouette retorted, and their gaze seemed to zero in on the drunk boy who was half asleep on Kyle’s shoulder. “Stan!”

Confused, Stan blearily squinted at the figure that was shrouded in shadows for a moment before his eyes lit up in recognition. “Kyle, that’s not Batman,” he mumbled, pointing at the stranger. “That’s just Kenny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back, and so are the boys! Thank you for your patience and loyalty, and pleas enjoy :)


	6. A Shower and Coffee Would've Been Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of drunken shenanigans!

Kyle blinked. _Kenny as in his old friend, Kenny McCormick? As in the alter ego of Mysterion?_ Before he could get a closer look, the figure dropped down from their perch. A blonde boy in a NASCAR shirt and a worn orange jacket dusted himself off before extending his hand amiably, as if he hadn't just fallen out of a tree. “I’m Kenny."

Holy shit. The toothy grin and signature pumpkin coat was unmistakeable. If Kyle had been uncertain before, there was no doubt in his mind now that Kenny McCormick was standing in front of him. 

Then another realisation hit him. Was it possible that more of his former friends were on campus, hiding in plain sight? It would make sense, given that most kids from South Park usually applied to Denver University for the proximity, and it was an ideal choice for families who wanted to stay together after the amnesia epidemic.

Suddenly lightheaded, Kyle shoved those thoughts aside and introduced himself. “Kyle.” 

Kenny nodded, switching his gaze to the patrolling guards nearby. “You two need some help getting past security?”

Kyle frowned. "How would we get by unnoticed though?"

“Well, I was gonna save this for a special occasion,” Kenny mused, before unzipping his bag and producing a string of definitely illegal firecrackers. “But now’s as good a time as any.”

Retrieving his lighter, he turned to Kyle. "I'll create a distraction while you and Stan run. You guys are gonna crash together, right?"

Kyle blinked. “Yep. He’s, uh, staying with me at McFarlane tonight.” _Okay, guess that's happening then._

“Cool, then I'll set off a couple firecrackers in the opposite direction while you two head back. Use the alley in East Illiff. Security cameras there don't work so you should be fine.” Kenny advised, with the air of an expert who had done this before. Which, Kyle was beginning to suspect, he had.

Satisfied, Kenny flicked on his lighter and lit a firecracker. "Nice meeting you Kyle. Now take Stan and run!”

-

As the crackling of firecrackers and the probing beams of flashlights faded behind them, Kyle slowed to a stop, dragging a half asleep Stan behind him. Slumping against the wall, he took a moment to catch his breath. 

Kyle imagined the day he produced his first successful forcefield going very differently. He would have a hot shower and a celebratory cup of coffee— the expensive kind with ‘hints of hazelnut' that self declared food critics would describe as "ambrosial" or "orgasmic". Yeah, there's a reason they're not professionals. But by no means did Kyle think he would end up in a shady alleyway that smelled like a gas station restroom, hiding from the campus police with an intoxicated boy. 

“Stan, wake up,” Kyle hissed, shaking his friend, who had been napping comfortably against the wall. 

"Stan's not in right now," he mumbled, eyes still stubbornly screwed shut.

Kyle flicked his forehead, causing Stan to yelp in protest. "I have an appointment with him right now. Get his lazy ass out here!" 

Reluctantly opening his eyes, Stan sighed. "Okayyy, you have one minute."

“We have to make it to the building across the street, but we’re going to have to run to avoid the guards.” Kyle explained to a suddenly very focused Stan. 

Stan studied him thoughtfully. “You have reaallllyy pretty eyes.” Kyle stared at his old friend exasperatedly, ears tinged red. For a completely unrelated reason of course. Was Stan always this annoying when he got drunk? 

“Just do what I say,” he sighed, before grabbing Stan’s wrist and yanking him down the alley. Hidden by the shadows of the alleyway, they watched as a security guard walked around the perimeter of Kyle’s dorms. When the security guard disappeared from view again, he turned to Stan.

“Okay, we go on three.” Kyle whispered.

“One…”

“Two…”

Stan took off running. _Fuck._

Swearing under his breath, Kyle hurried after him, cringing at each thud their sneakers made against the wet asphalt. “Stan! You idiot!” he whisper yelled, trying to grab the edge of Stan’s jacket. The guy was surprisingly fast for someone that shitfaced. After a short round of the world’s worst time to play tag, Kyle hauled Stan into the patch of greenery behind the dorm hall. 

“Who’s there!” The guard’s voice thundered from the other end of the building, followed by heavyset footfalls that grew closer with each step. 

Crouching down behind a bush, Kyle clamped a hand over Stan’s mouth as he scanned their surroundings. No stairs or fire escapes they could climb up nearby. But they _were_ directly under his balcony on the second floor. 

An idea began formulating in his mind. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he quickly weighed the pros and cons of using his kite to boost them to his balcony. He had only done this once before, and never with another person. But getting caught by the guard would mean a visit to the police station at best, and probation or expulsion at worst. 

He bit his lip. If he used his kite, that would mean revealing his powers to Stan again. But he could be trusted, right?

The guard’s flashlight beam was visible now, and Kyle made a decision. A very reckless one.

“Don’t let go of me.” he told Stan seriously, before wrapping an arm tightly around him and summoning his kite. As it latched onto his other arm, Kyle took a running start and hoisted it skywards. 

They were suddenly launched into the air and he could feel the extra weight making him lose his balance. He shifted uncomfortably, trying his best to keep his grip on both his kite and Stan. Even worse, Kyle realised that he had grossly misjudged the amount of force needed for them to reach the second floor. At this speed, they'd be lucky to land on the roof. He desperately tried to pull the kite down, to no avail.

He could feel them being carried higher and higher by the current of air when he suddenly felt a hard tug yanking him back down. Stan, miraculously, had been able to grab onto the railing of the balcony with his free hand. With one forceful heave, he reeled Kyle and his kite downwards, sending them tumbling onto the balcony floor. 

They stared at each other, twin expressions of shock on their faces, as the flashlight beam under the balcony passed by harmlessly. As the guard disappeared around the corner, Stan broke the silence. “You’re welcome!” he exclaimed brightly, before collapsing into a snoring heap. 

Kyle felt a laugh bubble up in his chest at the sheer absurdity of everything that had happened tonight. He must’ve looked incredibly stupid, sitting there giggling to himself. As the adrenaline and laughter left his body, Kyle could feel the soreness begin to set in. Slowly, he got up and dragged Stan into his room before dropping onto his own bed. There were a million things that needed to be dealt with, but all he wanted to do right now was pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in three days! I love winter break :D


	7. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up after a drunken night in someone else’s room doesn’t always have to be awkward, does it?

Sunshine poured through the balcony windows, painting his walls buttercream. The ringing of the bell tower chimed in the distance, heralding the bustle of students streaming out of morning classes. God bless afternoon classes, Kyle thought absentmindedly as he propped himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He was granted another five seconds of blissful ignorance before he noticed his kite lying in the middle of the room instead of its usual hiding spot under his bed. Suddenly, everything from last night came rushing back. Creating his first real force field, meeting Kenny, running from guards, and Stan saving him. 

Oh God. 

Stan. 

Stan, who had witnessed him using his powers twice, and was now noticeably absent from the room.

Kyle bolted upright, scrambling out of bed. This was not good. How stupid was he to think that he could trust Stan so easily? What if Stan was halfway across campus telling everyone within earshot about his ‘magic’ kite? 

Kyle cursed under his breath as he slung his kite over his shoulder. Son of a bitch. He was not about to let Stan get away with this. He flung the door open, nearly tearing it off its hinges, and came face to face with a bewildered Stan holding two bottles of juice and a sandwich. 

“I bought breakfast.” Stan offered weakly.

_Ah._

-

A key difference between sober and drunk Stan was that his sober self was a much better listener. He stayed quiet and engaged throughout Kyle’s explanation. The amnesia, his powers, everything but the notebook.

_”Retroactive amnesia was a versatile condition,” Dr Lopez had explained to Kyle once. “Each patient has a different trigger, so something that helped spark a memory in you could do nothing for another person. The worst thing you could do to someone suffering from retroactive amnesia is to directly confront them with the forced recount of a memory. That could cause permanent psychological damage from which they can never recover from. It’s best to just leave them alone and hope that they find their personal trigger.”_

Kyle was already gambling with Stan’s psyche by telling him about his abilities, and he wasn’t going to risk traumatizing him more by revealing the notebook. 

“So, um, that’s pretty much it.” he concluded awkwardly, looking up from his knotted fingers to gauge Stan’s reaction. “Take all the time you need to process this.”

Stan exhaled a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”

“Oh God, you’re traumatized aren’t you? I mean I should’ve known what I was-“

“No, no I’m not traumatized or anything,” Stan assured him. “It’s just a lot to take in, y’know? I mean, this stuff is straight out of a comic book! How is this even possible?”

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring this all out myself. Sorry you got dragged into this mess.”

“You kidding me? I get to be a part of your superhero origin story! This is way cooler than anything I’d be doing right now.” Stan exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement.

Kyle snorted. “Well, I’m sorry you ended up in mine. I almost killed you twice and _you_ ended up saving me. While drunk.”

“Then the story can be about a drunk civilian hero and his super powered sidekick.”

“Speaking of which,” Kyle mused. “Shouldn’t you have a killer hangover right now?”

“Nah, I perfected a hangover cure when I was fifteen.” Stan answered, waving his bottle of the blended mixture.

Fifteen? Stan already had a hangover cure at fifteen? Kyle’s eyes narrowed. That asshole used to make him show up with hangover food and aspirin every weekend until graduation.

“Uh, you doing alright?” 

“Never felt better.” He wanted to punch Stan.

“Anyway, I woke up early, so I thought buying breakfast was the least I could do after you were stuck babysitting my drunk ass last night.” 

_Damn him and his sweet gesture._ “Well thanks for the food. And sorry for freaking out this morning. I was just worried you were going to...” Kyle trailed off.

Stan tilted his head. “Tell?” 

A small nod.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, suddenly serious. “I promise.”

He stuck out his pinky finger and gestured for Kyle to do the same. Rolling his eyes in amusement, Kyle obliged. On instinct, both boys pressed their thumbs together and shook their intertwined hands. Once up, once down, then back to middle.

They gaped at each other in stunned silence. _How was it possible Stan remembered their secret promise handshake?_ Kyle was about to ask when he heard a series of knocks at his door. 

Quickly shoving his kite under the bed, he hurried over to answer whoever was drumming what sounded like the chorus of Bohemian Rhapsody on his door. He was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised to find Kenny standing on the other side. 

“Kyle! Glad to see you two got home safe!” he greeted sunnily, strolling past Kyle and immediately making himself at home on a desk chair. 

“Please, come in,” Kyle remarked sarcastically, shutting the door behind him. “How did you even find my room?”

Kenny shrugged. “You told me you lived at McFarlane, and after that, it was just trial and error. Your neighbors are _not_ morning people, I’ll tell you that.”

Before Kyle could respond to that concerning statement, Kenny turned to Stan. “Hey, nice to see you so chipper this morning! Woke up in a good mood today?” 

Stan reddened. “Shut up, I just got a good night’s sleep for once.”

“Oh I bet you did,” Kenny grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What were you two doing out there anyway? I’ve never seen you guys interact before.”

“I was at one of Clyde’s parties and got dared to check out these weird flashes of light coming from the woods. So I ended up getting lost and passing out, and that’s probably when Kyle found me.” Stan replied smoothly. 

Kyle raised his eyebrows in surprise. Technically nothing he said had been a lie. Impressive.

Kenny lit up. “You saw the lights too? Did you see what caused that huge burst of light then?”

Oh fuck. Did Kenny see him? Kyle held his breath, waiting to see how Stan would reply.

“Nope, must’ve been passed out then.” he answered casually, and Kyle mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

Kenny observed them for a second before nodding again. “Well, I’ve got a theory. You guys believe in UFOs?”

Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not this shit again dude.”

“They’re real, I’ve seen one before!” Kenny insisted.

“Yeah, when you were high as a kite! You also told me you saw Crab People coming out of a manhole.”

Shaking his head, Kenny turned to Kyle. “Kyle, you’re the tiebreaker. UFOs and Crab People, real or not?”

Kyle grinned. “Real.”

“Bam, told you!” Kenny crowed, earning a playful shove from Stan. “So Kyle, as a fellow believer of the cryptids, how would you like to join a club full of people like you and me?”

“Uh,” Kyle hesitated. “I don’t know...”

“Pleaseee, it’s for a friend of mine! He runs the club and it would mean so much to him if you joined.” Kenny pleaded. “I’ll even cash in my one free favor for this!”

“Favor? For what?” Stan piped in.

“Helping you two dumbasses sneak back onto campus, duh.” 

Kyle sighed. “Okay, fine. If it means that much to you and your friend, I’ll come.”

Kenny cheered, and clapped a hand on his back. “You will not regret this, my friend.” He then turned his expectant gaze onto Stan, who was deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“Stanny boy, I’d like to cash in one favor please.”

Stan groaned. “Fine, I’ll go too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who Kenny’s so eager to help out? (Long time readers, no spoilers! :D)


	8. Meeting Adjourned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was sponsored by Taco Bell TM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing four new additions to the cast! :D 
> 
> Also, thank you all for 2.5K hits! I’m so grateful for all your support and the sweet comments!

Kyle knew not to expect a huge turnout when he walked into the club room, but the barrenness of the room was still shockingly underwhelming.

“The club used to be popular,” Kenny had explained to him. But one member had singlehandedly driven off everyone else with his “chronic asshole syndrome”. When the club leaders tried to kick him out, he claimed to have dyslexia, and stated that kicking him out would be going against the disability policy of the school. Kyle had a growing suspicion of who the mystery troublemaker was, and prayed that it wasn’t who he was thinking of.

With the club on the verge of shutting down, Kenny had been assigned to recruit new members to meet the minimum quota of members. Everyone he had recruited thus far had quit after no more than five sessions. That’s why Stan and Kyle, who were bound by favors, were the perfect candidates. All they needed to do was show up to meetings every Wednesday and Friday night.

The club room was bare, with a couple desks and mismatching chairs dotting the floor, and a whiteboard with the words: “Welcome to the Unsolved Mysteries Club!” displayed onto it by an overhead projector. 

Kenny and a blonde boy that Kyle almost didn’t recognize as Butters were chatting at one of the desks. The weird home haircut Butters had sported throughout his career in South Park had grown out, wisps of pale blonde hair now curling just under his ears. Even the scar Kenny had given him in fourth grade had faded into a barely noticeable line, a reminder of a history long forgotten.

A pretty girl in a pink beret sat nearby, completely engrossed on whatever she was typing on her laptop. Wendy Testaburger. Also known as Call Girl. _A gadgeteer type with the ability to manipulate technology._ Kyle’s eyes widened. Wendy was here too? Months of dead end research, and now former friends and heroes were appearing left and right. Kyle would have jumped for joy, but he maintained his composure, forcing himself to stay calm. 

In his excitement, he almost missed the kid sitting near the back of the room. Scott Malkinson. Who apparently never grew out of his baby face or that habit of poking his tongue out. They weren’t particularly close, but Kyle still felt a pang of nostalgia and loss when he watched Scott obliviously scrolling through his phone.

It was strangely bittersweet, observing the scene before him. Watching Kenny and Butters interact, sitting together and chatting like old friends. Seeing Wendy laser focused on her work the way she had been since elementary school. Even Scott and his diabetes were a welcoming sight. For a second, Kyle could pretend that he was back in high school, before any of this ever happened and when things were normal.

He was pulled out of his daze by Wendy, who was waving him over. “Hi, you must be one of our new members! I’m Wendy Testaburger, the president of this club.”

“Kyle Broflovski,” he responded. “Nice to meet you.”

She tapped something into her laptop, before nodding. “Okay great, just take a seat anywhere Kyle. Our club will be in session in a few minutes.”

Managing a nod and a quiet thanks, Kyle slipped into the seat next to Kenny. “Hey, glad you made it!” he exclaimed, and turned to Butters. “This is Kyle, one of the guys I was telling you about.”

Butters beamed. “Nice to meet’cha Kyle! I’m Leopold, but everyone calls me Butters.”

The genuinely carefree expression on his face surprised Kyle. He had never really considered it before, but for people like Butters, who didn’t have the greatest childhood, the amnesia was probably a blessing in disguise. Without his trauma, it made sense that he would feel no need to manifest an alter ego like Professor Chaos to vent his bitterness. Looking at him now, soft features free of resentment and pain, Kyle’s guilt amplified. He felt partly to blame over the way they treated him in school. While he had avoided participating in the harsher pranks, even standing up for Butters on occasion, he still felt responsible for making his life harder than necessary. He wanted to apologize, but bit his tongue. Butters was happy now, and the worst thing Kyle could do was remind him of that pain. Instead, he smiled back. “Nice to meet you too.”

“It’s real nice of ya to come,” Butters added happily. “We’re used to seein’ more people leave than join, so it’s a treat to get more members.”

“Yeah, happy to help,” Kyle answered before glancing around the room. “Hey, this club seems fine so far. Where’s the really annoying guy?" 

"Oh, you won't meet him until later on," Kenny replied. "Cartman never misses Taco Bell's Quesadilla Wednesdays promotion."

Kyle stifled a groan. Goddamn it. Of course it was Cartman. He knew it was his duty to recover the identities of everyone in the notebook, but he had secretly hoped that he would never run into that fatass again. 

Seconds later, the door burst open, and Stan stumbled in. “Sorry I’m late!” he exclaimed, slightly out of breath. “I had some stuff to do at administration and lost track of time.”

Wendy laughed, and shot him one of her million dollar smiles. “Welcome! You’re Stan, right? I’m Wendy, the president of the club. Feel free to sit anywhere, the meeting’s about to start.”

Stan stared at her for a second, dumbstruck, before replying. “Uh, yeah that’s me.”

He didn’t make a move to sit down after delivering that stilted answer.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed, and Wendy repeated herself, still smiling politely. “Um, right, you can just have a seat at any of the desks.”

That brought him back to his senses. Stan quickly slumped down next to Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Was that as humiliating as it felt?”

Some things never change. 

Kyle bit back a grin. “Depends. Do you want me to lie to make you feel better?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Butters offered kindly. “Lots of guys have embarrassed themselves in front of her!” 

That comment made Kenny burst out laughing as Stan groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Yeah,” Kenny managed between wheezes. “And by lots of guys, we meant you and Eric Cartman.”

Before he could say anything more, Wendy flicked off the light switch, submerging the room in darkness. The harsh glow of the projector’s screen flickered to life as she began her presentation on this week’s topic: the lost colony of Roanoke.

As she delved into the unsolved mystery of the colony that vanished without a trace, Kyle was drawing parallels to South Park and its disappearance from digital media. He wondered if he should bring it up, seeing as how everyone here was from the same town. But they wouldn’t have much knowledge either, considering they were all victims of the amnesia epidemic. Besides, Dr Lopez had warned him that bringing it up could forcefully trigger memory overloads and traumatize everyone permanently. Kyle sighed. Best not to push it then.

Stan gently nudged him, his voice low and concerned. “Dude you okay? You’ve been staring at the ground for the past five minutes.”

Kyle shook his head, mustering a smile. “Yeah, just zoning out.” 

Suddenly, the door was thrown open as a large figure traipsed in. “What the fuck! Did you assholes start without me again?” he barked, the whiny pitch of his voice making Kyle’s blood pressure skyrocket. The light switch was suddenly turned back on, and Kyle could clearly see the one sight he was grateful his amnesia had erased standing in the doorway. Eric Cartman. The overpowering smell of Baja Blast and quesadillas triggered a slough of unpleasant memories Kyle had of Cartman and the Taco Bell Tuesdays their soccer team hosted weekly.

Wendy glared daggers at Cartman while Butters mumbled out a “Hi Eric”.

“We always start at six,” she said irritatedly. “You’re the one who keeps showing up late.”

Cartman was about to argue back when he noticed Stan and Kyle. “Um, who the hell are they?” he complained, folding his fat arms in what he probably thought was an intimidating gesture.

“They’re the new members: Stan and Kyle!” Butters introduced helpfully.

Cartman sneered. “I was not consulted about this, and I do not approve of a ginger being in my club.”

“And I didn’t ask for a fat asshole to turn this room into a Taco Bell gas chamber!” Kyle spat back, a familiar fury sparking in him.

Shocked silence filled the room after Kyle’s retort as everyone stared at him in disbelief, including Cartman. _Whoops._

“What the fuck did you just say to me, ginger?” he sputtered back after a moment. “I run with like, ten gangs! They’re probably gonna kill you now for disrespecting me. You know what, I’m getting a call from one of them right now!”

Cartman pulled out his phone and held it up his ear. “Oh hey dawg. What’s up? Yeah, some ginger kid totally just disrespected me.” he said loudly, and glanced at Kyle to make sure he was still watching. “Oh what’s that? You’re gonna cut off his dick?”

“Uh, I can see your lockscreen.” Scott piped in.

“I can thee your lockthreen,” Cartman mimicked mockingly. “I’m Thcott Malkinthon and I have diabeteth!”

“It’s a serious condition.” Scott grumbled.

“Shut up, I’m on a call!” Cartman dismissed before returning to his “phone call”. “Yeah sorry brah, I gotta go. I’ll see you at the gang meeting later.”

“Can we please get back on topic now?” Wendy snapped, looking as if she wanted to strangle him.

The rest of the meeting was a complete disaster. Cartman booed every time Wendy tried to talk, and she eventually gave Butters the rest of her notes to present while she dragged Cartman into the hall. It was an uncomfortable experience, watching Butters struggle to get through the PowerPoint while everyone pretended they couldn’t hear the arguing outside. Kyle was starting to see why Kenny had resorted to legally binding favors to force members to stay.

After a painful ten minutes, Wendy hurried back into the classroom to dismiss everyone before rushing off. As everyone else packed up, Kenny gave Stan and Kyle a congratulatory slap on the back. “Nice work guys, you’ve just survived your first club meeting. Only eighty more to go!”


	9. Sidekicks Are Overrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidekick, but make him cute :)

“Don’t you ever get lonely doing this stuff by yourself?” Stan asked absentmindedly, glassy gaze fixed on the midnight sky. His voice echoed across the empty parking lot, making Kyle pause. His breaths came out as puffs of fog as he set his kite down, panting hard. “I don’t know,” Kyle exhaled, wiping his forehead. “I’ve never really stopped to think about that. There’s just too much to do, you know?”

Stan shrugged and gestured around the lot. “I’m in the middle of a parking lot, drinking at one in the morning. Can’t relate.” 

“Hey, you’re the one who begged to come,” he retorted, playfully elbowing Stan.

It was true though. Stan had badgered him for days to let him come to training. After a lot of bargaining and an ungodly amount of puppy dog eyes, Kyle, against his better judgement, agreed. But only on the condition that Stan maintains a twenty meter distance from the kite at all times and promises not to come back to haunt him as a ghost if Kyle accidentally blows him up.

“Can you at least let me do something to help?” Stan pleaded.

“Yeah, you can sit there and not get yourself hurt.”

Stan propped himself up. “Oh come on. Haven’t you ever heard of the saying ‘two heads are better than one’?”

“Not when one of the heads is drunk!”

Stan groaned, and set his beer down. “Dude, I’m only down half a bottle. I’m not even remotely buzzed.”

Kyle had forgotten about his friend’s insanely high alcohol tolerance. Of course, it would be weirder if Stan hadn’t developed some immunity after years of ‘social drinking’. 

He chewed his lip, debating possibilities in his head. 

Stan would have to start his own training at some point. Why not trust him with a little more responsibility now? If he retained any part of his former self, he would be able to handle it. But this Stan was different. He didn’t have any of his old memories, and Kyle swore he wouldn’t put him in danger again, even if it was by accident. 

“Fine,” he relented eventually. He dug his phone out of his pocket, and pulled up a photo of the diagrams he had drawn in his notebook. “Look at this photo and tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.” 

That was harmless enough, right?

Stan eagerly accepted the phone and Kyle walked back to the center of the lot. Readying himself, he sucked in a breath of cold air before flicking his arm upwards and sending the kite soaring into the air. He had messed up—Kyle realized it the moment he released his kite. He had let go too late and poured his momentum in too early. His wrist had felt stiff when he flicked it and the angle was all wrong.

His heart plummeted with his kite, and he watched it produce the tiniest forcefield he had seen all month. It was crushing enough to see how little progress his throw reflected, but it felt even more humiliating in front of an audience. 

Stan approached him hesitantly. “So, uh, that was...good. I’ve just got a couple notes.” 

“I know. It’s shit.” Kyle muttered. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Why don’t you just try to copy what you did last week?”

“It’s not that easy!” Kyle exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I thought I was being attacked so I freaked out.”

“Okay, so let’s just try to bring up that feeling again,” Stan responded patiently. A mischievous grin crept onto his face. “Do you want me to sneak up on you again?”

Kyle gaped at him, incredulous. “What the-no! First of all, I’m not going to hurt you again. Secondly, the element of surprise doesn’t work if you tell me your plan beforehand, dumbass.” 

“Well, offer still stands if you need it,” Stan shrugged lightheartedly. He glanced at the photo on Kyle’s phone again. “What if we work on your form? It looks kinda different than the ones in the photo.” 

“It does?” 

“Yeah, you’re sort of hurling it into the air like it’s a frisbee, but the diagrams look more like pitching a baseball.”

“So you want me to throw my kite like a baseball.”

“I dunno, I’m not an expert. Just try it and we’ll see if anything changes.”

Kyle sighed. The only experiences he had with baseball was playing in South Park’s Little League baseball team when he was ten, and they had spent majority of the season trying to get eliminated. But it wasn’t like he had any better ideas, so he channeled all his baseball wisdom into a wind up.

Lifting his left leg, Kyle tilted backwards, awkwardly cycling his arm before he released his kite. _Too early._ It flew through the air for one glorious moment before crumpling into the dirt a few yards away. No light pulse, no force field, not even a dent in the ground. He groaned, burying his his face in the privacy of his hands, allowing utter humiliation to consume him. 

He heard Stan trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laughter from a few meters away, and scowled. “Shut up, this was your genius idea.”

“Dude, that was fucking awful,” he grinned, handing the kite to Kyle. “I didn’t mean your kite thing, by the way. You ever pitched a baseball before?”

‘It’s... been a while.” 

“Don’t worry, your trusty sidekick is here to help.” 

Oh right. Unlike Kyle, Stan had taken up baseball again in high school when it became cool to play. Kyle remembered how proudly Stan had worn his jersey after making the team. He also remembered how Stan had gotten more than his fair share of detentions for refusing to take off his baseball cap in class.

“You’re not my sidekick.” Kyle mumbled as he allowed Stan to adjust his form.

“You’re right,” Stan agreed teasingly. “They don’t usually make sidekicks as cute as me.”

With that remark, he stepped behind Kyle, using a Converse clad foot to nudge Kyle’s feet further apart. “Widen your stance.”

Kyle shifted, trying to ignore the warm breath that ghosted against his neck. “Like this?”

Stan stepped back and studied his corrections. “Yeah that’s good. Now twist your torso towards the right and lift your left leg up.”

“Arch your back a little more when winding up.” he instructed, lightly tapping the small of his back. A jolt of electricity shot through Kyle, making his spine tingle. He involuntarily released the kite, flicking it skywards with a instinctive, sharp turn of his wrist. 

It came hurtling down moments later, surrounding them in an iridescent, transparent bubble force field. 

Stunned, Kyle let out an involuntary gasp of delight. Stan wore a similar look of astonishment on his face, eyes wide with wonder. The world outside the glossy sheen seemed to ripple with a hazy, dreamlike quality, colors suddenly a shade more vibrant. They stood there in awe, shielded within the bubble for a few seconds, before it began to waver and disappeared with a soft ‘pop’, submerging the lot back into darkness. 

A beat of silence.

“So does this mean I get promoted to sidekick?”

“...Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for your support, readers<3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing a fic and I hope you all like it. Please leave a kudos, comment or bookmark Alter Ego if you enjoyed it! :)


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